CHAPTER 5 #2
I perked up to the toes of my feet to ensure I saw him over every head standing on expensive leather chairs.
“Sit down!” Sarah and her man yelled in unison. His hands never leaving the small of her back or the crook of her arm since returning from China. Within a week Sarah was herself, rested.
I tried not to stare at the hockey brute, but I could see his square shoulders even under the padding. My fingers tingled at the thought of squeezing him. The way he held the sick. The way he crouched low to the ice, slamming men into the wall. I couldn't deny how it made me feel.
Hot.
He was rough and scruffy, yet the smile on his face said otherwise. It was boyish, simple and playful, and it scorched me. “Get over it, Luce.” I mumbled and shoved a cookie in my mouth.
“What was that?” Sarah was by my side just in time to hear me chastise myself for liking an unattainable hot guy.
“Nothing.” His photo and stats showed up on the Jumbotron.
“You are a liar. But you must have great blow job skills to get all this.”
“Uh!” I slapped her shoulder. “Why do you think I had anything to do with this?”
“How could you not have? He is wooing you.”
Wooing me? No. I had never been wooed before.
“I don't think guys like that do those kinds of things. He doesn't have to. He has women falling at his feet.” I shoved a cream puff in my mouth. Jesus, why are those things so good? If I had a purse I would shove the rest of them in there.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Her smile was one of those that held a world of thought in one single facial expression.
I flopped into the nearest leather seat, sipped on a soda, regretting my decision to wear a square and over-sized jersey because I was too in denial about the situation.
I still couldn't mentally convince myself that this was Sasha's way of flirting.
It was too far-fetched, too unrealistic of a dream for me to believe it.
Things like that don't happen to girls like me.
I'm average, normal, occasionally foul mouthed and drank more often than going to the gym.
In my eyes I was a great time, but in comparison to all the great women out there I felt like a pretty basic bitch.
As I watched the brute protect his team, penalty after penalty, my heart raced a little quicker. But I couldn't help but build a thin layer of ice around the fluttering organ just protect it from the inevitable. Rejection. Big fat stinking rejection that I would not get over.
Because Lucy Walton, foul-mouthed small-town carpenter, would never get to have The Sarge, enforcer for the New York Pucks and all around dream boat. It just didn't make any sense.
The kids cheered as the Pucks managed two goals in the third period. The stadium below us erupted with excitement. It was so powerful I couldn't help but feel the vibrations from it. The pulse of the crowd throbbed in my soul.
“They won! They won!” Paulie pulled on his parents and jumped around in circles almost knocking into some fancy lamp that I knew none of us could afford to replace if it got damaged.
“Let's pack it up.” Sarah looked at me quickly as I started to bundle together jackets and find missing coats.
My feet headed for the door as soon as the buzzer sounded.
I would've left early but I couldn't do that to Paulie.
I hated large gatherings and getting home when all the people swarm to the exits makes me the most annoyed.
“No Luce, it's early yet. We can stay until the crowds leave. I don't want the kids getting lost in the fray.” Sarah's husband sat firmly in his seat.
A collective sigh came from the peanut gallery, now devouring the remaining desserts. Or the ones I left behind. Not that I left many.
I flopped against the door and twisted a scarf between my fingers. My stomach cramped with the amount of sugar I forced down my throat, trying to replace every hot thought of Sasha with diabetes. Probably less deadly.
The ice was clear and workers began to remove all the sticky remnants of the fans. Like ants, they fled out one by one in a swaying yet orderly fashion, floating high on the win.
There was a knock on the door that startled me from a daydream. Sasha and I naked on the ice, finding anything we could to rub against, to sink deep into.
Get a hold of yourself, Lucy.
Alan entered sweaty, as if he had been running around like a madman. “I'm glad I caught you.” He caught his breath, “Sasha–”
My heart sunk to the deepest part of my stomach that rocked me backwards. My equilibrium shifted, but I corrected it quick enough to hear the rest of what Alan had to say.
“Asked me to ask you to stay. He wants to meet you all. He's showering.”
“Sweet, Jesus.” I grabbed my chest.
“Yes!” Sarah squeaked. “Of course we will.”
The kids screamed at the mention of meeting the Sarge. Sarah's eyes held the loudest I told you so I've ever seen possible. Her lips curled at the corners and her smugness even wore off on my brother-in-law. That must've been the pillow talk talking.
There will be no living with them after this.
Alan caught his breath in the door frame as I brought him a water.
“Do you have anything stronger?” His eyes rolled to the side, but took the glass regardless.
“I wish.” I clapped his shoulder and avoided my sister's gaze.
I couldn't look at her, if I did, I would be able to see how ridiculous I looked in her reflection of pride. I distracted myself with Paulie instead.
“Hey, little buddy. Having a good time?”
“This is the best night of my life!” He jumped from a leather couch, his friends following, high on sugar, caffeine or whatever the hell else was in their hot dogs.
“I'm glad.” I moved off out of the way quick enough to avoid holding up an adolescent conga line.
Music played through speakers now that there was no game to call.
My foot tapped with the reckless abandon and my heart spasmed every time I even felt someone was near the door.
Rowdy fans walked through the hall screaming at every turn and at any moment my heart felt like it would burst, or stop.
Pull yourself together Lucy. Act like you've met a man before.
Thoughts of shirtless Sasha holding a book made my nipples tingle against my jersey. I pulled at the collar and used my forearms to itch as to not seem suspicious. Then, there was a knock at the door.
Him. My lord, I had forgotten how gorgeous he was.
Sasha was charming and kind. Every kid was given a signed puck and a Pucks jersey and Paulie got Sasha's stick signed by the entire Pucks team.
He took the time to talk to each kid, even my sister and brother-in-law were wooed.
By the time the Sarge was in front of me I could barely remember my own name.
I was mad at myself for being so starstruck.
Irish Spring mixed with hockey stud was chemical warfare on my libido.
“Do you still want it?” His question pulled me back to reality but I only caught the last half.
“Excuse me?” I croaked, coughed, blushed, then pushed my fishtail braid off my shoulder.
“The jersey. You already have one. Do you still want this one?” Sasha shook a brand-new jersey in front of my face, but managed to touch the shoulder of my old one, me attached, as he spoke.
My eyes darted to the way his fingers caressed the fabric. Those fingers, those hands. I thought of what they could do to me and that was dangerous.
“Oh, sorry, long night. Of course I do. Thank you for everything.” I think that is what I said. It felt like I had marbles in my mouth.
I took the jersey and folded it into my bag, a stupid smile so large hurt my cheeks. I could feel tiny beads of sweat form on my temples. My body was doing all sorts of flips and loops that I had never experienced so strongly before. Never. Never ever.
“Pleasure is all mine. Are you enjoying yourself? The game I mean.” Sasha ran a thick hand through his hair and itched at his beard.
Sweet mother, did he have a beard two weeks ago? It was thick, but looked so soft.
“Yes, congratulations! Great job, uh, enforcing?” I couldn't think of what he was called. I couldn't call him a brute to his face even if that is what I screamed in my dreams.
“Thanks.”
I could feel our bodies communicating with the hum of excited children bouncing over their gifts. Sasha and I stood silent but things were being said, things were being felt.
“I really like your face paint.” He pointed to my cheek.
“Team spirit.” We reverted back to teenagers, shuffling feet, stealing sparkling glances, fighting the urge to reach out and touch.
The spark was still there just like the first time we met.
This undeniable thing swirled around us and all we could do was stand starring in stunned silence.
I felt it. He felt it. I didn't know how and I didn't care why.
All I knew was that the spark jump started something in me I'd never felt before and I never wanted to live without.